The one hundred club…

A quick thank you post to all my followers and readers.

I have said it all before but it amazes me that I have any followers, it is just my life after all and sometimes it is far from exciting and less than newsworthy.

To have one hundred followers is amazing.

Thank you!


Being a blogger is time-consuming and can be hard going sometimes, especially when it is personal.  Sometimes you just don’t feel like sharing your darkest thoughts with the world and his wife.  Other times you could talk for England and win.

At best most weeks I manage only two posts and sometimes I have to force myself to do those.  However, every single time I do I am glad I did.  It is quite therapeutic in some ways, for me most nights I only have myself for company and so it is nice to feel like I am talking to someone, even if it is virtual.  In these few short months I feel like I have grown in confidence and capability, largely thanks to the continued support from you guys.

So tonight I will be having a Vodka and tonic and toasting my success and tomorrow, well who knows, a book signing, or at the very least a hangover! 😋

On to the next hundred… Thank you all!

Much love, LLB


Light my fire…

If I am to have any hope of blogging in to the future I am going to have to start writing things down.

Sometimes I do write things down but more often than not a thought pops into my head while I am having a conversation or when I am in bed, then by the time I am ready to sit down and write, I can’t remember any of them.  It is so bloody annoying.

This week has been a prime example of that.  I quite clearly remember sitting on the toilet and thinking of something that I thought would be perfect for a blog.  Now though, even if my life depended on it, I wouldn’t be able to remember what that was.

How can I remember that I was on the toilet while I had the thought but not remember the thought itself?

So anyway with my thoughts all disappearing into the ether I shall ramble on.

I am bored, again.  I go through phases of this, it is quite normal.  For me at least.

Not bored of anything in particular just bored in general.  I suppose you could say I am slightly more bored with men than I am bored with anything else though.

I am finding Tom and Elsie a little bit difficult to deal with too and that doesn’t help.  I am more than a little bored of the constant arguing, moaning and their general lacklustre for anything not related to them.  Tom is driving is us all mad with his obsession for fortnite (for those of you who do not have teenage boys or have been under a rock for the last few months this is a video game), it has completely taken over his life.

We have become a shouty house, almost overnight.

Tom shouts loudly and aggressively at his TV in frustration at the game (and our apparently useless internet), Elsie shouts at him because she can hear him over her TV and she is fed up with it and I shout at them both because they are shouting at each other and it is just generally pissing me off.

I have recently taken to banning him from the game but I don’t know what is worse, Tom playing fortnite or Tom not being allowed to play fortnite.  Either way seems equally painful to be honest.

Sunday I had a date.  It was a very warm day and sweat is not a good look on a woman, not at the dinner table anyway.  At one point I thought I might melt and not because of his charm although he was giving it 110%.

I thought this was going to be an easy date.  We had been chatting for a few days and seemed to be getting on well, we mostly talked on the telephone rather than messaging, which actually was a breath of fresh air but when the date came around the conversation was not altogether free-flowing

He was very flirty and it has to be said that throughout the date he invaded my space quite a bit.  He touched me a lot and although I wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable with this, I did feel a little of centre.  I am uncomfortable with too much closeness too soon.  I am not in any way tactile.

In that weird way that is very me.  I can’t mix and match.  If I book you for sex we will have sex but if I book you for a date then a date is what I expect.  I am very clear in my instruction.  I always ask in advance what type of date we will be having I can not deal with an ever-changing situation, I need to be fully in agreement beforehand about what is expected and I do not do touchy feely.

I do not expect my men to be overly flirtatious.  Whilst I like it to be clear that they have some intention I much prefer the thought to be spoken.  For me the ease with which you find it comfortable to be completely at ease with someone, where you will want to touch them and are able to flirt unashamedly, be blatant or just plain naughty does not come on a first date.

The difference between a date where sex has been discussed in advanced is that you are both aware and in complete agreement.  You have decided between you that if you meet and you like each other that you will have sex.

Hunter was one of those dates.  There were no mixed signals, we both knew what we were aiming for and we were both in agreement. There was no need for us to be anything other than ourselves. We met, we had a few drinks, we talked and although we joked a bit we kept the conversation light, he asked if I was happy and I said I was.  We went back to his, simple.

It was one of the best nights I have had in a long time.

However, my date on Sunday was more complicated.  Why?  Simply because we were supposed to be meeting for dinner nothing else.  There had been no obvious flirting beforehand, absolutely no mention of sex and although we had talked about what we were looking for, loosely, it had all been very casual.  Almost too casual.

This meant that I found his overtly sexual flirting difficult.  In other ways we seemed to be doing ok, he was a year older than me and so we had very similar music and movie memories, grew up in the same area and had some common interests but I could not get to grips with the fact that he seemed to be undressing me with his eyes and looked like he wanted to eat me for lunch instead of his very nice looking Roast Beef.

In spite of all this I enjoyed the date, although the conversation could have been better but when he was being normal and we were just chatting it was just like every other date I have been on.  Nice.

We have been in contact since but something was not right.  He has phoned me and I have phoned him and we have chatted but it just seems that we have it all round the wrong way.  We have somehow ended up in that zone where you are overly polite to each other.  We ask how our days have been and if we slept well.  It’s boring and mundane and it is  almost like we feel obliged to message each other.

This morning, after a lovely long lie in, yes it’s the holidays again.  I was almost dreading the ‘good morning’ text.  It’s only Tuesday, we have got to make it to Friday with this.  I feel like I have been given a life sentence already.

Pouring a strong coffee I dutifully messaged back a good morning and asked how his day was going, while wanting to shoot myself in the head for not just saying, actually, I am really sorry but I’m really not feeling this.

A couple of mundane messages later and it was my turn again.  Oh.  This is painful. I read his message. which told me he was off to the garage to grab a bite to eat and asked me what I was going to be up to today but I couldn’t even muster a reply.  I must have taken far too long to think about it as the next thing I know I have another message.

It says:  I’m really sorry but I just not feeling it between us, you are lovely though and I hope you find what you are looking for.  Take care xx

My immediate feeling was one of enormous relief.  I was off the hook.  I instantly replied thanking him for being honest and admitting that it was clear we were not exactly setting the world alight.  I to wished him all the best and then deleted him from my life without so much as a backward glance.

Set up my laptop and logged in to check my messages.  What have I turned in to?

It has made me think this morning though.  I was beginning to wonder if people were becoming too fussy.  Everyone is looking for an ideal, a fantasy, something that no one has any hope of living up to but we are simply just looking for someone to light our fire.

No one sets out to look for ordinary.

For me, the older I get the less I want to take chances.

I don’t want to waste time with someone who may or may not be, I want to be sure.  Of course I am not talking about sex here, sex is different.  It can be with whoever, whenever, if you so desire and sometimes I do but my forever guy, if indeed there is such a thing, he will have to be quite something.

I want the fairytale, there I’ve said it out loud.


Lust for life…

I am still not running on all cylinders.

I wouldn’t say I am fed up necessarily but I am lacking my usual lust for life.

It wont last, I know that, although I do keep saying “normal service will resume soon” even though I am not entirely sure how ‘soon’ that will be but nothing keeps me down for too long.

I am very fortunate in that way I suppose. I have said before that it takes a lot to knock me over. I am by nature a very happy-go-lucky person, what will be will be unless you decide otherwise.

This week I have been regressing. The easiest way to do this is not with someone dangling a coin across your face and telling you how drowsy you feel but by listening to music.

Music has always been a massive part of my life and if I could go back and change one thing it would be to have continued with my guitar lessons as a teenager. I always fancied being lead guitar in a band but then I always fancied a lot of things and there in lies the problem.

I see absolutely no reason why I can’t be a jet fighter pilot, a marine biologist and lead guitarist in a band all at the same. However, I once felt that no effort should be required on my part to obtain all these fanciful careers I had my eye on and so here I am stuck in my office admin job, well for the next few years at least.

The thing I love most about music is its ability to evoke powerful memories.

My obsession with music started from a very young age. My mother was just 16 when I arrived, which in those days was particularly shocking but she was, thankfully, adamant that she was keeping me and would not be persuaded differently.  This meant that we lived at home with my grandparents for some time until she met and later married my father.

After we had moved in to our own home I still spent a lot of time at my grandparents. It just always felt like home.  The bond that had clearly been created when I was just a baby just became stronger over time.  It was my happy place and remained so until sadly they both passed away when I was in my early twenties.

My Mum has a younger sister who was a young teen then and I remember her listening to all kinds of music, from rock and roll to disco.  I was amazed at the time with her record player, which was heavily disguised as a sideboard, as seemed to be the fashion in those days and loved sitting in her room listening to Bye Bye Baby by The Bay City Rollers or Cuba by the Gibson Brothers.

Just like a movie we all have a soundtrack to our life.

A song that reminds us of our first love, a particular friend or a holiday, that moment in time when just hearing the first few beats you are instantly back there, in that moment.

I have gerascophobia (thank you google), a fear of getting old.  Yes, I know it is inevitable but that does not mean I should look forward to it and I don’t, I really don’t.

It really does scare me.  I am not ready and nor will I ever be.  Can you even be jet pilot in your 70’s?  How long does it take to train?  I must seriously look into this or I am going to die unhappy.

Yesterday on my day off, I politely backed out of a date.

I knew he wasn’t really for me, we met you see on Saturday, albeit briefly but it was long enough to know that I didn’t want to see him again and so it just seemed pointless.  However, we had pre-arranged this meeting before Saturday, somehow and he was still keen so I had no choice but to cancel.  To be honest we hadn’t even messaged since Saturday so I was surprised when he messaged Tuesday morning to check we were still on.  I took the opportunity to explain my lack of feeling and apologise for being so flaky but I would not be following through.

Instead I fired up the lap-top and cranked up the tunes.

In this now very digital world we live in every song is at your fingertips.  It is amazing.  I sailed through my life in a few short hours, pulling out hilariously funny and sad, often sentimental memories from the back of my mind.

I relived my early clubbing days and my days spent repping abroad with some classic dance tunes.  I remembered the first 7″ singles I bought with my then first boyfriend.  The days when my best friend and I used to pretend we were Pepsi and Shirley and married to the Kemp brothers from Spandau Ballet.  Songs that remind of Tom and Elsie singing in the car.  I remembered people and places and moments and I danced and sang as if it was the last time I would be able to.

I didn’t get anything done! I didn’t do the housework or the garden or make that trip to the charity shop and neither did I give a monkeys.  I was having a blast.

Back here in 2018 though I feel even more nostalgic than I was before.

Then today at the surgery two things made me both happy and sad at once.

My lovely happy moment came from an 83-year-old lady who had written to tell us of her exciting news.


Dear doctor,

It is with great pleasure that I write to inform you of my change of address.  I shall be moving in with my fiance Mr S at 123 Alphabet Road. Where I hope we will be very happy together.

Best wishes, Mrs B


Oh my God!  So do I Mrs B, so do I.  It absolutely made my day.  Eighty bloody three, there is indeed hope for me yet! 😉  It is Just blooming lovely.

My happiness for Mrs B and her new-found bliss was short-lived when later I spoke to another elderly patient, who is 71 and desperately lonely.

Tearful and upset he had been having thoughts about “ending it all”.  With no family and living in sheltered accommodation, the highlight of his day is the carer who comes in at breakfast and dinner time.  It is the other end of scale and it is heart wrenchingly sad.

We chatted for a long while on the telephone and he would cry easily.  I was happy to chat for as long as it took to lifts his spirits a little bit, I hoped and I reassured him as best as I could from the other end of a telephone but in reality there is nothing we can do for him.  Medicine will not cure his loneliness.

I have struggled to stop thinking about him all day and have made a note to call him again in the morning.  This is both a need to make sure he is still alive and also an urge to just do the right thing, to care.  How can I help him?  I don’t know, other than to go round there for a cup of tea and I’m not sure if that is even allowed.  If it isn’t it bloody well should be.

You realise how important just having someone to share things with is.  It doesn’t really matter who that person is, your Mother, your Brother, a friend or a lover but having someone to turn to is something we all need.

Memories are lovely, they are wonderful things to have, to look back on and without them what would be the point of taking the journey.  A photo will never replace the feeling you get from the memory of it, crystal clear in your mind.

In life we rarely appreciate anything until we no longer have it.  When we don’t have those people or we can no longer visit those places.  Make news friends or see old ones.  That is the loneliness of not being able to see each day as a memory.

My fear of old age became a little scarier today because although I love my memories, I want to continue to make many, many more of them.  To enjoy everything and grab opportunities whenever they arise.

Therefore I am kicking my own arse, with a steel toe cap.

I still have a soundtrack to finish.

Dear Sir…

I regret to inform that you have not been successful in your application.

There are many reasons why you have not been successful, the main one being you are a completely dishonest and untrustworthy shit.

So there!


Remember a while ago I said I wanted to explore something different?  I have changed my mind.

This will not come as a surprise to most, as I change my mind a lot.  However, I have my reasons for this sudden change of heart and I am going to use this post to try to explain them.

My search for Mr Particular began on a whim and looks like it will end the same way.

I have been interviewed/or have interviewed a fair few candidates in this fairly short amount of time.  Some have only made it as far as the conversation stage, some I have met and others have promised me the world in an instant but all have left me disappointed.

Naively I thought that advertising for a particular brand of man would make things simpler, almost like a job vacancy:

Strong, silent type required. Must have good manners, be clean and presentable with an extensive knowledge in the art of shibari.

Please apply within.

However, like most job vacancies you get some very unsuitable applicants for the position.

Fortunately the world of dating is not as PC as the world of job hunting and so you can be quite severe in your rejections. You can discriminate against hair colour or lack thereof, body type, age etc.  You can be fickle, It is allowed but I was trying a new approach and this meant not being too fussy.

I was trying to concentrate on the man more than the image.

Take Cheung for example, not classically handsome and skinny to the point of malnourished but I liked him, he interested me it seemed on the surface we were looking for the same thing.  Our messages certainly led me to belive that.  Did I fancy him?  Not especially, or at least not in that dreamy kind of way but that wasn’t really the point.

It was supposed to be a meeting of minds, initially at least.

There were many like Cheung.

The first was Sam, my conversations with Sam were interesting and informative up to a point, especially as he was the first person I had really engaged seriously with but messaging can only take you so far and despite us talking often, almost too often at some points, I couldn’t get the whole long distance thing.  He also had a habit of moving the goal posts, a very long way away.  Too quick too soon.

After Sam came James and then Hunter.  Hunter was young, at only 35.

I didn’t think I would be comfortable with someone a lot younger than me.  I mean, I make no secret of the fact that I am attracted to younger men but for this I just thought it would be weird.  It wasn’t.  He was very comfortable in his own skin and owned every inch of it.  When we met he was charming, very polite and actually quite handsome.  He had a beautiful body and yes, I did get to see it.

For one amazing night only.

I did hear from Hunter a few times after but he was all of a sudden unsure as to what he wanted and with absolutely no pressure on my side he waited too long before deciding it might be me.  Casually one Thursday night he text me and asked if I was free, it had been a week or so since I heard from him and so naturally I apologised and said I already had plans.

It was not what we agreed.  In the beginning we talked a lot about what we wanted and what we expected and how we wanted things to play out, we agreed. We both said we would be completely straight with each other.  Casual was not on the agenda for me.  I already has casual, at this point Flash was still roaming around with his permanent hard-on.  I wanted full on and that is what he was offering. It is why I went with it, after all. He failed to deliver on his promise.

I moved on.

After Hunter I chatted with a few others but never really wanted to take it any further than chat.  Scales was another young one but he was less gentlemanly, not sure how else to say that he came across as a bit of a shit really, he seemed to like demanding things. Then there was Jack, who seemed to think he was put on this earth to share himself with as many women as possible.  He took to sending me videos of him in action.

Then Mr E came along.

I am still very easily floored by good conversation. It will always be my Achilles heel I love a guy that can talk and Mr E could certainly talk.

I should be getting wise to this now.  Most men actually find it quite difficult to message, they find it awkward and as most are not serial texters like us women they struggle to hold long conversations.  It is rare that you find someone who can do it with ease and even rarer to find someone who doesn’t use text speak/slang and emoji sentences to tell you how they feel.

🍆😈 … I’ll give you three guesses!

A good conversation with someone who can talk about all sorts mixed with a bit of fun and flirting and good manners to boot, is something I will never be able to resist.

Remember way back at the beginning when Jon (aka 007) was on the scene, he was a great talker, I fell for him in a text message, literally.  He was not a looker but that man could charm the knickers off a nun.  We messaged a lot, he make me laugh out loud, he made me have ooh moments and ahh moments, he told me things I didn’t know, lots of trivia, and we just talked about stuff.  He was interesting and funny and well, pretty perfect actually.. anyway, I digress.

My point really is that Mr E was very much like that too.  He wooed me with words.  Then once he had me he left me.

The weird thing is that I thought it would be different.

I mean I thought that by searching for Mr Particular we would both know where we were right from the beginning and so we would be clear.  There would be no messing about, we both know our intentions and so if we do not have the same intentions then there would be no point in continuing.  Simple, yes?  Er, No actually!

Much like any kind of online activity it seems that intention is the key word.

The fun is almost only in the dream or the chase not in the reality.  The idea alone is enough to fuel the fantasy and for most a fantasy is all it is.  There is no intention to  take it any further in real life, everyone is happy to talk the talk but not walk the walk.

Mr E definitely talked the talk but failed once again to follow through.  At the time I was slightly devastated because I had high hopes.  I know, I can’t help it.  I am clearly easily hoodwinked.  However, in my defense he was very good.  I have to believe these people or some of them at least are genuine, surely?  You also have to bear in mind that I judge everyone by my own standards and there in lies the problem.

Not everyone is like me.  I have my faults believe me but I can honestly say that I would never intentionally set out to deceive someone and if truth be told that is what these people are doing.   They have no intention of meeting or following through with any of their promises and yes I am well aware that there are of course genuine and honest people out there, people who are just like me but for the purpose of this experiment it seems I couldn’t find one.

Once again I fell for the chat and that is really all it was, just chat.  An idle promise of things to come, designed to entice you into revealing yourself and of course stroking the male ego along the way.  The thrill of the chase, the fact that they have still got it and have the power to use it.  You are fulfilling a need in them, a need to prove that they are still irresistible to the opposite sex.

In an effort not to become cynical (or more cynical) I have deleted my profile and rebuilt myself a shiny, brand spanking new, third time lucky account.  I wonder how many accounts I will have had before I find my Prince? *cough

My new profile is real, well real enough for the virtual world, with real pictures and a real blurb and I bet you can’t guess who my first message was from?


The Hairy Caterpillar and other stories…

I have been on planet Zorg this week.

After a couple of actually very good weeks and even better weekends I have been reminded once again that life is never that smooth for that long.

The only thing keeping me relatively sane is work.  It just keeps me occupied and of course I have my buddies, who to be fair really don’t get enough credit for the shit they have to put have with.

It has been an odd week.  I am back in the throes of many a conversation with many a man and it is wearing me out, truth be told.  It could be wearing the buddies out a whole lot quicker though.  Truthfully I don’t know how they cope.

It is hard to describe the buddies, they are different but the same. They each bring a different outlook to any given situation but overall their morals and opinions are basically the same. The three of us are like looser versions of each other, with me being the loosest, I mean that in lots of different ways not just sexually, the buddies are very happily married, I should add.

Once again this week I found myself heavily engaged with someone, let’s call him Mr E.

Mr E was ticking all the boxes. Though this always seems the case in the beginning.  Our conversation was a slow burner to start with but eventually we agreed to swap numbers and then it was all systems go, suddenly.

Unfortunately, as I write, I haven’t heard from Mr E since Friday afternoon.  We were making plans to meet Saturday, so I expect you can guess what happened, yes that’s right, absolutely nothing.

He became a Ghost…

There may be more about him later, when I feel I can talk about it without using every profanity available in one sentence.

Fortunately there have also been some laugh out loud moments this week.

The best one by a country mile, was when a patient came in to the surgery to inform us that we had hairy caterpillars in our bush.

Having a male patient say quite loudly, “Did you know you have hairy caterpillars in your bush?” Is something you can’t quite be prepared for.  Laugh.  Oh my God did we. We laughed all day long.  Every mention from there on in of hairy caterpillars and bushes and the whole office was in fits of giggles.

Now these are not any ordinary hairy caterpillars they have been on the BBC News no less, hence the excitement.

They were also very hungry and had already eaten most of said bush.

Dutifully I went out to inspect the bushes and did indeed see lots of hairy caterpillars, who were investing heavily in their preparations for becoming Moths.  I took some photos, as requested by the patient, as it would need to be reported to the authorities, apparently.


The offending critters!

I did report it to the authorities, eventually.  Or I have at least tried.  It took me three whole days and more research than should really be necessary for such a small creature, to even find out who to report it to.  Three times my email to three different addresses given by the forestry commission’s website bounced back as undeliverable.

Really, I’m quite happy for the little critters to stay put.  The effort that is required to report them far out ways the probability of anything actually being done with them.

As yet I have had no response whatever, So it looks like the hairy caterpillars are here to stay.  Let’s hope they don’t turn in to killer moths.

I can see it now;  killer moths attack 400 local residents! 

Imagine being responsible for that.  Ok, maybe that’s a little dramatic.

Thursday I had my hair done.  I am very lucky to have a friend do my hair.  There are not many things I am precious about but my hair is one of them.  To say I am particular is an understatement.

I make much fuss and nonsense about my hair but generally it always looks the same.  I sometimes have a fringe and sometimes don’t but otherwise that is about as adventurous as it gets I’m afraid.  I am uncomfortable with hairdressers,  in fact the last time I went to an actual hairdressing salon it was just before my 30th birthday, some 15 years or so ago now.  Jesus, where did that go…?

I just don’t like them, I’m a little bit funny about people being too up close and personal,  and before you think it, sex is different, anyway the endless chit-chat drives me nuts as well.

Laura, my lovely friend and hairdresser (just in case she reads this *wink) has been doing most of the family hair for ages now and Thursday Mum and I were booked in, at Mum’s.  Despite my hair OCD, I do not have it cut very often and am not an every 6 weeks kind of girl, so we always have lots to catch up on and there is usually lots of chat and laughter.

I think I have mentioned before that my parent’s house is full of treats, it is a diabetic’s nightmare.  Laura who is also partial to a sweet or three was digging in to the sweet jar when Mother announced that Father had spent the previous evening noshing a stick of rock all night.

Noshing a stick of rock, really?

While Laura and I rolled around on the carpet in stitches, Mother was trying her best to fathom out what it was that had tickled us so much.

Like two naughty schoolgirls we couldn’t even stop laughing for long enough to try to explain and when we did we just ended up laughing all over again.

Trying to explain that the term noshing is probably not a particularly appropriate one these days as it’s more urban meaning describes something very different, was one of those rare ‘had to be there moments’.  Mother was of course horrified and couldn’t understand at all why the word had been linked to such a thing.  Quite simply nosh is food.  No.  It really isn’t.

While we are loosely on the subject of all things carnal it has been a while since I have had sex.  Yes, I did say that out loud.  I have taken a keen interest in porn.  This does not help though when you are not getting any yourself, it only increases the desire to get some.

Porn is far, far better now than it once was, the days of manufactured porn are pretty much over, although there are still some very obviously staged performances but most people (and when I say most people I do mean most people), watch the amateur stuff, home videos if you like.  It is massive, if you’ll pardon the pun.

I expect people will have very mixed views about porn as they do about most subjects but really, over all and believe me I am no expert but it seems that everyone is doing it.  As with everything that is accessible to you online these days there is a very wide variety of topics and every little idiosyncrasy is catered for and then some.

I never really thought I was a big fan of porn, I mean I have watched it obviously, both in and out of relationships and never really been overly turned on by it but now it is a whole new ball game.  Well it’s not new, it’s age-old but this is all new version is new to me and I like it.

I am at an age where I am allowed to feel liberated.  It is very much ones man’s drink is another man’s poison but I really would recommend it if you haven’t had a browse for a while, or if you have never had a browse.  Try it.  You might like it, if nothing else it may give you a few ideas.  *wink

Back in the real world we are ending the week with a football injury.   Yes, we are still going.  I know, every week I say I think this is the last week but I have been hoodwinked. It was never the last week at all.  It was the last game of the season as far as the fixtures go but now we have all the tournaments, there are 4 no less.  Today was the first, it was hosted by us.  It was long and it was an early start and there was lots of waiting around and then just when things got going, Tom got injured.

Yesterday it rained all day long, so of course today that made for a very soggy pitch indeed.  However, It did start well, one game up and on to the second and half way through the first half he came out for a save and with one foot forward for the ball and one foot sliding backwards in the mud, he split his difference.  A groin injury.  Hoorah and he didn’t even save the goal.  Humph!

He tried to carry on, bless him, while I was shouting at him to work through the pain as only a child bearer can but at half time he admitted defeat.  He limped off and we went to find the first aid tent.  A couple of paracetamol and an ice pack later he was on the subs bench and that is where he remained.

On the plus side it did mean we could leave slightly earlier than originally planned (this was to be an all day event), as Elsie is slowly becoming a football widow-child, having spent the last few Sundays on her own indoors.

Lucky her!

Tom is still milking his football injury for all it is worth, hobbling around the house demanding sustenance.

Perhaps he has got the makings of a professional footballer after all?  😉



I am far too relaxed to be writing blog posts.

I can barely keep my eyes open.  It is warm and sunny still and it is well past 6 pm now.  It has been a weekend of not a lot really apart from chilling out, eating and drinking.

Friday the buddies and I went for a  drink after work.  It was the kind of evening where you could quite easily have sat there all night long, chatting and laughing.  More packets of crisps and nuts were comsumed than should be legal and the Vodka Tonics went down far too nicely.

There is just something about a pub garden in the sunshine.

Saturday Elsie got her shopping expedition.  Stupidly I thought that as it was yet another beautiful day people would have far better things to do than shop.  I was wrong.  The town was heaving.

If I could think of a hundred things I would like to do on a beautiful May day, shopping would not be among them.  I would go find some woodland with some bluebells, have a picnic maybe or go to Beachy Head and walk the cliff tops.  Maybe go outdoor swimming at the weir or just stick pins in my eyes.  However, there was no way I was getting out of this shopping trip no matter what I suggested in its place.

In all honesty it wasn’t so bad. It doesn’t take Elsie long to spend her budget and after only a couple of hours we were ready for refreshments.

It did dawn on me over the weekend though that I can not afford teenagers.  They are far too expensive.

I feel like Tom and Elsie are fairly good kids to be fair (at the moment at least) but my God the money they go through makes my eyes water.

Sunday Elsie decided to go to town again, with her friends this time.  Really?

Well.  I do wish you had mentioned that Friday love, I would have made you wait and saved myself some road rage yesterday.

Oh and what was that, you need some money?  Oh Yes, of course silly me.

I really am struggling to stay awake.

I wish I had an excuse for my tiredness but other than sit about in the sun eating and drinking and a half oiled deck, well it was far too hot for that malarkey,  I really haven’t done an awful lot.

I am still sitting in the garden with my feet up, feeling like I really should be doing something or checking on someone.  I don’t expect Tom has done his homework but I can’t even lift my bum to go and ask.

At the moment I don’t want to move from this spot, ever.


My spot…


I feel like if I just sit here long enough the day won’t end.  It won’t be back to work tomorrow and normal life will not resume.

I have been randomly chatting over the weekend on and off but mostly off.  I have dipped in and out as when I feel like it, which hasn’t been often to be fair.

I have been far happier with my nose in my kindle, which is much more interesting than trying to work out the mysteries of the male species, a tale I still can’t quite fathom.

I do feel like I might have had enough sun now, I feel a bit dry and itchy and I’ve had sun screen on.  After a hard lesson learnt a long time ago falling asleep in the Spanish sun I never go out without sun screen.

I much prefer pale and interesting to red bloody raw, thank you.

Well I suppose I had better go see what’s happening in doors.  Check the school stuff, make the lunches, blah blah.

Just five more minutes…

Normal service may resume later in the week!   😉

Over the rainbow…

It all started Sunday night with the howling bloody wind and rain storm that came hurtling upon us at God knows what time of night.

That was Monday off to a bad start.

I don’t think there can be much more rain left up there.

I woke to a consistently loud banging sound which turned out to be my side gate hanging half of its hinges, having taken half the fence with it and some of the border.  It had obviously been banging all night and in its constant battering of the post, had knocked that off the adjoining wall to.

Oh, so it was going to be one of those weeks was it?  Bring it on!

It was a miserable rainy day and a long one at that, when I finally arrived home at way past 7 pm it was looking even more desperate.  Almost as desperate as I felt.

Tuesday came and went without event, thankfully.  Although we did have the window cleaners in at work.  We have a lot of windows and an atrium so it is a job and a half and it seems a company has been contracted to clean them on a regular basis.  I clocked the window cleaner on my arrival, he was a handsome specimen, tall and dark with the look of the devil about him.  Young obviously, too young?  Yes, probably.

They were busy getting on with business.  Sometime around mid-morning I was summoned to speak to the tall dark devil, who had some trouble reaching some of the outside windows and thought he should let us know.

There is clearly something wrong me with me as I can not concentrate on the task in hand when confronted by a very charming and very good-looking young man.

He wanted to take me outside to show me the problem and who was I to refuse…

Quite some time later and after Charlie and I had become well acquainted he was on his way with a promise to come and service me again soon, sorry us again soon.

In my dreams…

Midweek saw some interesting new messages arrive in my mailbox.

It would be very dull and uninteresting for me to share them all at this point probably as the likelihood is they wont turn into much.  If they make it to the weekend then maybe I will have a bit more to tell.

The thing I find hardest about this looking for a guy thing is the habit of putting all your eggs in one basket.  Once you engage with someone it is hard not to become focused on them to the point where you exclude conversation with others.  It is not something you do consciously more subconsciously, I think.

Almost without thinking you are more relaxed about replying to messages from those who have not entirely won you over.  This happens more easily if you have exchanged numbers or are engaging on a chat app instead of the dating site, simply because you are online less once you have switched.

The danger with only concentrating on one person is that it is unlikely he is going to be the one and so while you are chatting for the obligatory amount time and sussing each other out, your other options are going cold.

It is hard to keep three balls in the air at the same time.

For example, last weekend I started a chat offline with a guy who seemed like he was everything I was looking for, it all started well.  He was making all the right noises and so we proceeded on to the next step, then he turned all peculiar on me and kept talking about being a wolf and I’m afraid he lost me.  He wanted to meet today but I am afraid my fear of being eaten alive kept the wolf very firmly at the edge of the forest.

That is how quick it starts and finishes.

Yesterday I found myself in a similar situation with someone else.  It had all started well and we seemed to be on the same page, he asked me lots of questions which I answered, honestly and we were progressing quickly.  A day later and things are moving quickly he wants to meet and I will of course, as it is important and the sooner the better sometimes I think but by Saturday it could all be over again.

I am always being asked if this bothers me and while it can be frustrating it is kind of how I expected it to be.  I certainly didn’t think I was going to find the man of my dreams with my first online experience, cranky I might be, stupid I am not.

I do enjoy it.  I love chatting, in an ideal world I would go out and about to socialize and meet new people and I do when I can but when I can’t I will enjoy it in other ways and it really is as simple as that.   Some conversations are hard work and some people can be difficult to talk to for lots of reasons but I like to think that the good out ways the bad.  Be positive, who knows what might happen.

The week is looking like it will end on a high which is always good news.

Today I came home from work to find that my garden has been magically transformed to its former beauty thanks to my Mum and Step-dad.  I can’t tell you how lovely it was to see my gate hanging properly, the fence fixed and decking all looking lovely and tidy again, not to mention the lawns being done and the general tidying and maintenance that was considerably overdue.  To say I am grateful is an undersatement.  I love you both!

One day I should maybe talk about my family.  By that I mean my Mum and how we ended up in our funny little family dynamic but it is a long and in parts sad story that will need its very own space

This evening was Tom’s consultation evening.  I am not going to lie, I was a little aprehensive but it was more good news.  Yay!

He seems to have finally found his brain, who knew, not me that’s for sure as he still doesn’t seem to use it much at home.  However, it seems he is finally settling down, his teachers were full of good things, he has the knowledge, he is much better behaved, overall and although still easily distracted (I think that is hereditary), he is trying and they are pleased with his progressed and a bit relieved, I think.  It must be quite a tiresome job sometimes.

His grades have improved slightly and they are confident that if he continues with this mindset he can only come on in leaps and bounds.  *punching the air

Tom himself seemed very pleased with his comments and engaged well with the teachers.  We both left happy.  I do hope it lasts.

Tomorrow it is one of the buddies birthdays so it’s after work drinks for us all.

We are determined to power through the day with no disasters and reward ourselves with a heavenly vodka or three as we glide disgracfully in to the Bank Holiday weekend!